


Iceman

by mysteriousmice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Other, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriousmice/pseuds/mysteriousmice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS FOR SHERLOCK SERIES 2!<br/>Post Reichenbach ficlet from Mycroft's POV. May or may not become a multi-chaptered Mystrade fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iceman

Devastation.  
The continuous repetition of the news story hits me like the rapid fire of a machine gun. A bullet sinks into my chest every time I read the words. I can't escape, not even here.  
"Fake Genius Takes His Own Life!" read the popular tabloids.  
"SHERLOCK HOLMES, FRAUDULENT DETECTIVE, COMMITS SUICIDE!"  
"After his name is put to shame, the famous SHERLOCK HOLMES takes a final leap!"  
I can't speak, but even if I wanted to, I wouldn't dare. I gently place the newspaper onto the table next to me. Other members of the Diogenes club are just as silent as me; I try not to pay attention to them. It's against the rules; the rules that I helped to create state that no one may speak, acknowledge each others' existence, or even cough.  
I make a futile attempt to contain my thoughts and think about something different, but guilt still manages to wash over me as if I've just stepped into the pouring rain.  
It was my fault. I got carried away. I shouldn't have told him about my brother. I shouldn't had taken that risk.  
Even though it seemed mandatory, now that I look back on it, there were other ways that I could have gone about opening him up. There were other options, other things I could have chatted with him about.  
But this was about my brother. It was always about my brother when it came to James.  
I close my eyes and relive the encounter I had with John last night. "Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed," John had said, looking him straight in the eye. "And you have given him the perfect ammunition."  
He hasn't contacted me since. I try not to wonder if he told Sherlock that I was sorry, because chances are that he hadn't. Now he won't ever be able to.  
I broke Sherlock Holmes.  
I broke John Watson.  
It was my fault.  
Being a gentleman, a member of the Diogenes club, and one involved in the British Government, I am not normally one to cry. Generally when faced with death or disappointment, I can drown it out with a little scotch. But now, there's moisture collecting in the corner of my eye. I feel exposed, raw, torn apart and almost a little angry. I was once the iceman, but now I've melted.  
 _'This is what it feels like to kill your own brother,'_ I think to myself. _'Look what you've done.'_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading. I know it's really short, but if you guys like it, I may be willing to tie Lestrade in and make it a Mystrade fic? Otherwise, I'll just leave it where is now. Please comment if you want me to continue so I'll know what to do!


End file.
